


On A Gathering Storm

by Twin_Feathers



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Codependency, Complicated Relationships, Gen, Graphic Description, Major Original Character(s), Possibly Unrequited Love, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 23:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twin_Feathers/pseuds/Twin_Feathers
Summary: Tommy looked at her with that icy blue gaze of his. Maybe one day Lizzie would dive into the depth of those unnaturally blue pools and find her self-worth at their bottom. But that day had yet to come. Lizzie/Tommy.





	On A Gathering Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before the new season aired so therefore they are not yet married. Also, Ruby is still a baby so I'm placing this about 2 years before season 5. Warning: **Spoilers** Bad language, violence, attempted Non-Con, Abuse, Graphic Violence.

** On A Gathering Storm **

** **

Pretentious evening functions in the height of London’s society weren’t anything Lizzie had ever pictured herself part of. The whore, dressed in expensive satin and jewelry. ‘_ Like a wolf in sheep clothing, _’ she thought as she applied lipstick and smacked her lips in front of her dressing table.

It wasn’t often that Tommy invited her along for these events. She figured it was partly due to him keeping her at safe distance and partly due to his general disliking of social functions organized by other members of the parliament. No matter how easily Thomas Shelby adapted to the people he surrounded himself with, beneath the feigned nonchalance Lizzie knew he despised them for their shallow ways and ignorance. So it came to a surprise when Tommy walked into his study one day to declare that Lizzie was going to accompany him to a gala dinner hosted by the MP of Sheffield, Malcolm Bamford.

She knew better than to ask him about the sudden change of mind. His eagerness to attend the party could only mean that business was somehow involved. And who was she to deny him? Lizzie had never been able to say no to Tommy in all her life. 

“What do you think?” she asked instead, making her path across the carpet of Tommy’s study where he was busy fastening his cufflinks. She gave a little twirl, showing off the dress he’d paid for. It was a greenish-blue gown made of satiny fabric that hugged her body in all the right places. “Respectable enough for you?”

Tommy barely glanced up long enough to run his eyes over her. “It’s not me you have to look respectable for.”

Lizzie’s smile dropped faster than a lead weight. 

_ Right. _ How naïve to think he had asked her simply for the sake of her company. Lizzie’s presence was for no other reason but to feign the perfect image of a happy family to the blood-thirsty housewives at the function. She was merely a distraction so that Tommy could go about conducting his business in peace. For a second, she forgot that the world would have to end before a genuine word of affection ever left Tommy Shelby’s lips.

Letting out a sigh, Tommy tucked his suit jacket over the sleeves of his shirt. “You look well.” He must have noticed the miffed expression on her face, because the next second he circled the wooden desk and loosely wrapped his arm around her back. “Come on.” He ushered her toward the door. “We don't want to be late."

Lizzie’s lips thinned out into a line as she let herself be dragged along. She had the sinking suspicion that the night was going to end badly. But then again, when did things ever go smoothly when Tommy was involved.

oOo

The manor was the perfect embodiment of Bamford’s ego laid out in brick stone. It was overly large, almost ostentatious to the point of intimidation and it lay on a mossy hill as if dropped there from outer space, making no attempt to blend into the neighborhood.

“Watch your step.” Tommy extended a hand to help her out of the car. It was one of these things that people rarely ever noticed about him, but Tommy actually had manners. Even in these sinister first weeks after the war had ended, Tommy had been the first man ever to light up her cigarettes and help her into her coats when everyone else had barely spared her a second thought. He wasn’t exactly a gentleman, but Tommy made a point of treating people with the respect he thought they deserved, no matter who they were or what they did for a living. 

As they walked on the pebbled pathway that led up to the manor, Lizzie’s hand became clammy. Her heart sank further in her chest with each step, tension creeping into her backbone.

“Everything alright, Lizzie?”

Lizzie let out a huff of air. She was a prostitute from Watery Lane. Her lungs were filled to the brim with factory smoke and her hair never quite lost the whiff of horse shit that was Small Heath. She wore scars on her skin like war medals, she had never attended a single fucking day of proper school in her life and today she was going to be the center of attention of London’s most pretentious. Why wouldn’t everything be _ alright _?

“I’m bloody fine.” 

Trust Tommy to spend a thirty-minute car-ride in dead silence only to strike up a conversation at the last possible moment. 

Making a step forward over the threshold of the manor, Lizzie was held back when Tommy grabbed her wrist. 

She turned around to find his icy blues boring into her. 

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked.

Lizzie bit back the snappy response. It would do them no good to start an argument in the middle of the MP’s entrance hall. So she bit her lower lip and looked up at the starry sky behind them, anywhere but at Tommy’s ridiculously beautiful eyes. “What if they find out, somehow?”

Tommy’s expression remained unwaveringly calm. “Find out about what? The business?”

_ Well, yeah, _ Lizzie thought. _ That too. _

“What if they find out who we really are?”

It would be one hell of a headliner for the newspapers if someone was to find out that Thomas Shelby, OBE and recently elected member of the parliament showed up at a social function with a prostitute in tow. The whole ‘leader of an infamous, murderous, race-fixing gang’ thing was only secondary in comparison. 

Of course, there was also the fact that they weren't really married. She wore a ring to keep people from asking questions, but sooner or later they were bound to notice that not everything was as perfect in the Shelby household as Tommy had them all believe. 

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Tommy pulled his cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit one up. 

“Lizzie.” Tommy sounded tired, as though they’d talked about this very same topic a million times before. “You’ll blend in with the crowd just fine.” Taking another drag from his cigarette, Tommy shook some of the ash from his coat sleeve. “Try to make shallow conversation about how I’m too lost in paperwork to pay you enough attention."

_ Paperwork my arse. _ There were other, far more important matters to keep Tommy’s attention away from her and those had nothing to do with passing laws and legislations. 

Tommy gave her another one of those calculating, intense stares and Lizzie’s heart did a small flip in her chest. Damn Tommy and his damn eyes. “Trust me, Lizzie. You’ll be fine.”

Lizzie thought of Epsom and the hot breaths and grunts of that disgusting piece of shit on top of her, pressing her down. Tommy with wild hair and even wilder eyes, brain matter spattering the wall and his face as Lizzie cried, the pistol useless in her shaking hands.

_ Trust me. _

Lizzie snorted. 

Right. Because that had worked so well in the past.

Tommy still looked at her with that icy blue gaze of his. Maybe one day Lizzie would dive into the depth of those unnaturally blue pools and find her self-worth at their bottom. But that day had yet to come.

Until then, she swallowed down the uneasy feeling in her guts and entangled her clammy fingers with Tommy's as they entered the manor together.

oOo

The ballroom was filled with shrill voices and laughter. Within minutes, Tommy had people hanging off him, left and right. Lizzie marveled at how easily he managed to draw people in with his charm. Then again, she knew all about the spell Thomas Shelby cast on others. He had an aura about him that made him seem untouchable, a guarded secrecy in his eyes and words that made everyone wonder what was going on behind his icy stare _ . _Even after all these years, she still wasn’t immune to it. 

After a few minutes of shaking hands and making shallow conversation, Tommy vanished off into the crowded ballroom, leaving Lizzie to her own devices. 

As soon as he was gone, she felt out of her depth. A few of the MP’s wives approached her to exchange feigned pleasantries and to ask her obnoxiously private questions. Lizzie found herself bristling at their nosiness. These women didn’t see the world beyond the tip of their noses. They led boring, small-minded lives in splendor and their favorite past-time activity was claiming to help the poor while doing very little in forms of help. It became very apparent to Lizzie, throughout the evening, that every breath these obnoxious hags took was a waste of oxygen. 

Tommy was _ so _ going to pay for roping her into this.

Just when Lizzie was about to get herself another Whisky from the bar, a familiar voice suddenly registered from somewhere close by. Lizzie jolted upright at the sound of the man’s voice.

She turned back around slowly. A guy with fiery red hair and cognac eyes stood at the end of the bar. He was deeply engulfed in a conversation with another soldier, both of them laughing at a joke the barkeeper had made. Even after all these years, she would have recognized him _ anywhere. _

“Commander Tyrell. I trust you and Mrs. Shelby have met before?” One of the elderly women walked up to the soldier, gripping his arm to gain his attention. 

Tyrell turned around to face them and gave Lizzie a slow once-over, a flicker of recognition flaring in his eyes.

“Quite the character Mr. Shelby is, if I say so myself,” the elderly lady gushed, unbeknown to the damage her words were causing. “Lizzie is a lucky woman.”

Lizzie drained the rest of her Whisky in one go and almost choked on it, earning herself a round of surprised glances from the crowd. Throughout her life, she had been called all kinds of things, but ‘lucky’ had never been one of them.

“I take it you two are acquainted?” the woman inquired.

“I’d say the nature of our relationship is a bit more _ profound _than that.” The bastard smiled.

Lizzie felt her fingers tightened around her now empty glass until she thought it was cracking. 

She was trying to keep her emotions in check, but from the looks on everyone’s faces, she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “Commander Tyrell and I went to school together,” she quickly pitched in, praying for the bastard to play along. “In Plymouth.”

Her heart was trying to beat its way out of her mouth as she waited for his response. 

“What a small world it is," Tyrell said with the same fake smile he had put on earlier. He wrapped an arm around Lizzie's back as though they were two old friends. "Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse us for a moment. There’s lots of catching up to do between Mrs. Shelby and me.”

Not even waiting for a reply, Tyrell steered her away from the crowd, into the back of the house. Lizzie’s skin burned beneath the soldier’s fingers as she stumbled along, throwing a panicked look back over her shoulder at the crowd. Tommy was nowhere to be seen. _ Fucking figures. _

As soon as the door to the sitting room fell closed behind him, Lizzie instinctively took a step back, nearly tripping over a bear fur in her urge to get away.

“Mrs. Shelby, huh?” Tyrell drew closer until her back was pressed flat against the wall. He grabbed her by the throat, pinning her in place. “Seems like you’ve moved up in the world quite a bit, sweetheart.”

“Let me go,” Lizzie demanded. A creeping panic ignited in her chest at the way the soldier’s fingers restricted her airways, loose enough to give her room to breathe, and yet undoubtedly _ threatening. _ She clawed helplessly at Tyrell’s hand, but his hold on her didn’t budge. “Get off!”

“Why so distant?” Tyrell smirked. “You used to let me do just about _ anything _ for a few bob.” 

“Times have changed,” Lizzie bit out and jammed her knee into his groin. With a choked-off groan, Tyrell let go of her throat. He folded in half and Lizzie followed the attack with a second, sending him tumbling to the ground. Taking off in the direction of the door, she barely made it halfway across the room when she felt a strong hand wrap around her ankle. Lizzie toppled to the floor with a choked-off gasp. 

“What are you going to do? Find your _ husband _? Warn him?” Tyrell hissed, grabbing a fistful of Lizzie’s hair and smacking it against the floor. Stars exploded behind Lizzie’s eyes as she whimpered. Tyrell was on top of her, a dark, twisted blur of colors in Lizzie’s vision. She tried to wrench her arms free, but he restrained them above her head. “I bet the common house will find this little turn of events quite interesting. Thomas Shelby, the iconic leader of the labor party, snogging some filthy two-bit whore.”

“You seemed to have no problem _ snogging _her yourself!”

Tyrell backhanded her hard enough across the face to whip her head around with a gasp. The coppery taste of blood exploded on her tongue. He was getting off on violence, that one. And not just in bed.

“A war hero turned MP, married to a prostitute.” The soldier was unable to contain the glee in his voice. “Looks like Sergeant Shelby’s not as much of a man of honor as he’s got everyone believe.”

Funnily enough those were the words that made Lizzie snap. She spat a glob of bloodied spittle into the guy’s face, splattering Tyrell’s cheek and neck. “And yet he’s got more class than you could ever dream to have.”

She was surprised by how much she meant it. Tommy was far from being flawless and no one knew that better than Lizzie, but the one thing she could say about him? He would _ never _use his physical advantage over a woman to hurt her. 

“My, my, you actually do _ love _ him, don’t you?” Wiping her spittle from his face, Tyrell let out a sardonic chuckle.

Lizzie’s eyes filled with unshed tears. 

She hadn’t allowed herself to think about Tommy that way in a very long time. 

“Now, I wasn’t going to do this. But my conscience is a fragile thing.” His free hand started groping her breasts through her dress and his breathing grew heavy and ragged. “It compels me to be honest about this with the House of Commons, tell them about your dirty little secret. That would cost him his position, of course, make him the laughing stock of the entire British Empire.”

He pulled her dress up up so it was bunched together around her waist and Lizzie pressed her thighs together, breathing heavily in fear. 

“Maybe I can be convinced to keep quiet for your husband’s sake,” he said, one hand sliding up her inner thigh. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want for him to be in trouble.” 

In another lifetime, Lizzie might have considered to simply spread her legs for Tyrell and be done with it. After all, what was one more meaningless fuck to add to her total tally? But then she thought about her daughter and how disappointed Ruby would be to know her mother had lowered herself to such deeds. 

So bestowed the soldier with a look filled of hatred. “Fuck you.”

“Stupid slut!” Tyrell sneered and then something seemed to snap inside him. He roughly manhandled her around, dragging her across the carpeted floor toward the coffee table. Snarling and cursing, Lizzie knocked over papers and books from the tabletop as she scrambled for purchase. Tyrell’s breath was hot and heavy in her neck as he forced her down and yanked her dress up. “Only thing you’re good for is spreading your legs like the whore that you are.”

“Get off me! Fuck off!” Lizzie was only dimly aware of the tears that streamed down her face as she tried to yell for Tommy, for _ anyone _ to come and help her. Later on, she wouldn’t even be able to fully remember when she had managed to wrap her fingers around that sculpture on the coffee table. She did, however, recall the sickening crunch of metal against bone when she smashed the sculpture down against the commander’s head.

He went lax on top of her and Lizzie was sobbing as she scrambled off the wooden table, trying to shove his dead weight off of her. His body hit the floor with a dull thud, limbs flapping about lifelessly. 

Her hands came away bloody. 

Lizzie barely made it back to her feet, her legs were so shaky. Her dress was torn and ripped in several places, her hair was a mess as she staggered back from the unconscious soldier and toward the mirror. Pulling a handkerchief from her purse with shaking fingers, Lizzie wiped at the smears of blood and smudged make-up on her face and smoothed her hair back down as much as possible with only just her hands to use. There wasn’t much to salvage of the dress, but if she was lucky, nobody would pay her too much attention in the few minutes it took to get from the Great Hall to the entrance of the manor. 

Taking in a shuddering breath, Lizzie gathered all of her residual strength and strode out the door.

oOo 

Tommy found her outside, in the car. 

She had an unlit cigarette clamped between her lips but her fingers were shaking too hard to cooperate in any way, even for a task as simple as lighting a match. 

Half-hidden in the inky black of the night, with no street lights to illuminate her face, Lizzie could pretend that she was fine, that her hands were shaking because of the cold and not because of the blood coating them.

Tommy looked even more intimidating at night, surrounded by the distant lights of the mansion. The halo of light gave him a divine touch, highlighting those diamond-cutter cheekbones as he leaned in through the window frame of the Bentley to bestow her with a deeply unsettling glower.

“I searched the entire house for you, only to have a _ maid _ tell me that you ran off,” Tommy growled. Anger rolled off of him in waves as he stared her down. “Next time you want to humiliate me in public, you might as well give me a fucking warning first, eh?”

Lizzie’s lips curled into a bitter smile around the cigarette. She winced in pain when her movement reopened the wound on her lip, more blood filling her mouth as she pulled the smoke from her mouth. “Just drive me home, Thomas.”

_ Thomas _. She couldn’t even fucking call him Tommy then. Not when he had taken one fucking minute to hurt her far more gravely with his words than Tyrell’s fists could have ever hurt. 

It had always been that way with Tommy. 

He held her whole heart in his palm, ready to crush it at any given time and he didn’t even realize it. 

Instead of starting the car, Tommy was quiet for the longest moment. Regarding the unlit cigarette in her hands, he eventually pulled a box of matches from his coat and held it out for Lizzie. One palm curled to protect the feeble flame from the wind, Lizzie leaned in without thinking, the tip of her cigarette catching fire. 

She noticed her mistake a moment too late.

Tommy dropped the burning match and cursed, one hand reaching out to cup Lizzie’s chin as he lifted it for closer inspection. He turned her head from left to right, assessing the damage on her face. “What the ‘ell?”

There was a flicker of something in the unnatural blue of his eyes, shock, empathy, anger, maybe all three of them combined. His lips were parted, but no words made it past them as he took mental stock of the situation. His gaze dropped down to her dress, to the ripped straps and torn fabric. She could see the cogs turning in his brain as he put one and one together. 

“Who?” His voice was grave. The promise of certain death to whoever had touched her should have been disturbing, but all it did was reassuring her. The thought that he wasn’t completely indifferent to her, be it out of some detached sense of affection or for the sake of their shared child, was oddly comforting.

Lizzie took a deep drag from her cigarette and exhaled a fume of smoke, hoping it would hide the bruises on her cheek. There was no sense lying to Tommy. He would find out about what happened one way or another. 

“An old trick.”

Tommy’s face was the picture of calm, but his treacherous eyes gave him away. “Give me a name.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She reached out to cover the fingers of his free hand with her own, squeezing gently. 

Tommy’s jaw worked. He turned her hand around in his own, running callous fingers over the dried blood in the creases of her palm. He did it almost reverently, as though this was all part of some secret ritual she was now part of. Then realization sank into him and his eyes flashed up at her with a sense of panic.

“It’s not mine,” Lizzie said, only to realize a second too late that that wasn’t Tommy’s main concern. 

Doubtlessly, Tommy was more concerned with having a dead body of a war hero somehow connected to him, than about the possibility of Lizzie being seriously hurt. The last thing he needed was for the coppers to start another witch hunt on him for a crime he hadn’t even committed.

“I didn’t kill him if that’s what you’re thinking,” Lizzie added, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She wondered if there would ever come a day in her life where her heart finally decided to shut Tommy off out of self-prevention. She wasn’t sure how many more disappointments she could take. “Just knocked him out cold.”

Tommy looked away from her, jaw shifting uncomfortably. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

Lizzie took a last shaky drag of her cigarette before dropping it out the window of the parked car. She allowed a rueful smile to pass over her lips. “Just drive me home, Tommy.”

And for once, as if by a fucking miracle, Tommy said nothing and actually did what he was told.

oOo

It wasn’t after she had showered and cleaned up the worst of the blood that Lizzie dared to look at herself in the mirror. Her left eye was swollen from the beating she’d taken, her lip split and scabbed over. Her skin was sickly pale and bruises were forming along her ribcage that would be impossible to hide from Tommy.

Taking a minute to compose herself. Lizzie put on a night gown and slipped back into the hallway where Frances was bouncing a crying Ruby in her arms. “Dear lord. Are you alright, Ms. Stark?”

Ms. Stark. After being referred to as Mrs. Shelby for the whole night, her old name sounded almost foreign to her, like an unwanted but familiar companion.

“I’m fine.” Lizzie went about taking Ruby from the maid’s arms. The baby settled down almost instantly against Lizzie’s chest. Lizzie nuzzled her daughter’s tiny head, taking in the smell of baby-soft skin and fresh laundry. Her tiny little coos and nonsensical babbles were like a balm for her soul, soothing Lizzie’s frayed nerves.

But Tommy’s housemaid was nothing if not persistent. “Ms. Stark, do you want me to take her back to the nursery? It’s probably best if—“

“_ I _decide what’s best for her, Frances.”

“As you wish, Madam.” The maid scurried off; looking a bit flustered and Lizzie didn’t have the time, nor the emotional capacity to feel guilty about it. The old woman tended to get herself involved in matters that didn’t concern her and quite frankly, Lizzie was tired of it.

Tommy cleared his voice, causing her to turn around to face him. He was leaning in the doorway, barefooted, in only his dress pants and undershirt. “Why don’t you let me have her while you go on to bed.” Tommy nodded toward his bedroom and Lizzie swallowed. They rarely ever shared a bed overnight. If they did, they were usually either too drunk or too fucked out to care where or who they woke up next to. But tonight they were both stone-cold sober.

“Lizzie.” Tommy persisted. He slowly approached her before lifting Ruby from her grasp. He hitched their girl up high in his waist, pressing a brief kiss against her temple as her tiny fingers curled against his smoothly shaven cheek. “Go on, now. Go. You’re dead on your feet.” 

When Lizzie still didn’t move, Tommy sighed, sounding tired beyond his years. “Lizzie, please. I’ll join you in a minute.”

She wasn’t used to hearing him say ‘please’. Thomas Shelby never asked anyone for anything. 

She hesitated for only a second longer before she pressed one last kiss to her daughter’s hair. “Goodnight, Ruby,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. Looking at her daughter’s bright blue eyes, Lizzie knew that there was no limit to what Ruby could achieve in life. With Tommy’s intellect and Lizzie’s stubborn streak, their daughter was bound to become a star, just like Polly had predicted. She would never know the feel of another man pressing down on top of her, of his breath hot against her skin, feeding her soul with shame and insecurity. She would never be looked down upon, never be hurt in a way that left scars on her soul. 

Giving Tommy one last glance, Lizzie walked down the hallway and into the bedroom. Washing a hand over her tired features, Lizzie took a minute or two to just breathe and allow some of the tension to slowly drain out of her before she walked over the padded ground to Grace’s dressing table. She sat down and studied the purple bruises on her cheek, reaching up to touch the mark Tyrell had left on her. 

When Tommy joined her a few minutes later, he pulled the door closed behind himself and knocked his head back against the sturdy wood, closing his eyes on a heavy exhale.

Lizzie watched him from her spot at the dressing table. 

He looked oddly vulnerable beneath all those layers of clothes in nothing but his undershirt and suit pants. He was wiry and pale to a degree that left her wondering if maybe he needed to start eating real food and stop smoking so damn much. Even so, she found it soothing to look at him when he was unguarded like this. It was as though, along with his clothes, Tommy had shed all the various walls he had carefully crafted around himself.

He walked over to the bar and poured them both a glass of Whisky, holding one out to her. She took it silently, feeling her heart flutter when he brushed his fingers against hers. It was pathetic, the way she would still get excited about these little things after so many years of knowing _ better. _ But Lizzie was hopeless.

He offered her a cigarette and she accepted it quietly, waiting for the tip to catch fire. Then he lit one for himself, smoke curling from his lips until the silence between them grew insufferable.

“He came to see me after the war,” Lizzie started, her voice a near-whisper in the quiet of the night. She ran a shaky hand over her eyes and sniffed, looking anywhere but at Tommy. “He had fantasies. Weird stuff. It was after the war and business was booming. I had enough to keep myself above water, so I said no.”

Tommy continued to stare at her from over the tip of his burning cigarette. His gaze went straight to her soul.

“He wasn’t the type to take no for an answer.”

Sniffing, Tommy put his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What ‘appened tonight?” 

Lizzie found her stubbornness shrinking under the piercing authority of his stare. “He said he’d tell everyone about my past unless…” Lizzie made a point of looking him square in the eyes. She jutted her chin out at him as though she had said the words himself. “Unless I did the only thing I was good for.”

Tommy’s gaze shifted away from her, up at the ceiling, and if it wasn’t for the veins bulging under the pale skin of his neck, Lizzie would have said he seemed unnaturally calm, almost unbothered by what she had told him. He lifted the glass of Whisky back to his lips, draining it entirely, before putting it down on Grace’s dressing table with a little more force than necessary. A flicker of anger in his eyes, a strain of knuckles, a bulging of veins and that was it. The topic was dealt with, never to be addressed again.

“I’ve sent one of my men after him,” he said. “He’s not going to be of any more trouble to you.”

“You’ve sent one of your men,” Lizzie repeated dully.

Even after all these years filled with nothing but disappointment Lizzie had told herself that Tommy _ cared. _ At some level, to some barely distinguishable degree, she had thought Tommy cared about her. And yet he stood there with that indifferent expression on his face, willing to forget about the man who had just damn near forced himself on the mother of his child. 

“It’s taken care of.” Tommy walked over to her. His hand found her shoulder and Lizzie’s stomach revolted at the touch. In a move so quick, neither of them saw it coming, Lizzie surged up from her chair, slapping him hard across his unsuspecting face. Her palm landed with so much force that a flare of pain shot through her hand. Tommy’s head had whipped to the side from the force and he looked genuinely stunned, his left cheekbone colored a bright red as he stared at her in shock. 

“Tell me, Tommy,” Lizzie gritted out. “If it had been _ Grace _ tonight, would you’ve sent one of your men too?”

Anger blitzed in Tommy’s eyes at the mention of Grace’s name but Lizzie didn’t care. Not anymore.

“If it had been _ Ada _ ,” Lizzie continued. “If it had been _ her _ crying out for fucking help as she was held down by a fucking soldier—“

“Stop it,” Tommy warned. His eyes sparked with a dangerous twinkle, the kind of protective instinct that only a threat against his family elicited. 

Lizzie let out a bitter huff of air. “You can’t even bear to imagine it, can you?”

“She’s my _ sister _.”

“And you love her.”

There it was, the big difference.

Tommy stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes looked even more otherworldly than usually, the bright blue a startling contrast to the milky tone of his skin. He didn’t even try to conjure up a response, but it was all there, laid out in his features, anyway.

Throughout the years, Lizzie had learned a lot about the Shelby family dynamics. She had learned that Tommy went to Polly to discuss business matters, to Arthur and John to put matters into action. But he went to Ada for moral stability, to get called out on it whenever he needed to get put in place. Ada matched Tommy in the snappiness of his responses, but also his wits and sarcasm. Tommy respected her opinion, valued her insight. For all their bickering, Lizzie did not doubt that he _ cherished _ her. And it shouldn’t make a difference. It really shouldn’t. She was his sister, after all, and Tommy had always been a family man. But somehow it was harder to know of how much love Tommy was capable of when she was never on the receiving end of it.

“You said ‘never again’ to me as you meant it… and I believed you,” Lizzie whispered, more tears spilling free as her heart splintered in her chest. “Bent over your fucking desk. That’s all I was ever good for. Never good enough for your brother, but just about bloody good enough for everyone else, wasn’t I, Tommy?”

Tommy’s eyes gave away a flicker of god-honest regret and she knew they were both thinking about Epsom. 

Lizzie wiped the tears from her cheeks and let out a humorless laugh. She turned around, ready to grab Ruby and leave. Sending one last look over her shoulder, Lizzie’s voice grew heavy with bitterness. “To this bloody day, I’ve never been anything but a whore to you.”

Tommy snatched her wrist and yanked her back around so that she was facing him. “Do_ not _ put words in my mouth.”

She tried to pull out of his hold but Tommy’s grip on her only tightened. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her in against his chest. Lizzie’s breath hitched when she tried to pummel his bare chest with her fists and Tommy caught them easily, holding off the worst of the blows. Eventually, Lizzie sagged against him and he caught her, pressing his forehead against hers as they leaned into each other. 

“You’re the mother of my child,” Tommy said roughly.

Those were the words that did her in. 

“You’re the mother of my fucking kid, ey?”

That much, at least, was true. 

Lizzie wasn’t naïve enough to believe that Tommy would have allowed her to have his child if he was opposed to the idea. Any other woman and Tommy would have found a way to talk her into a termination. But with Lizzie, he hadn’t even put up a legitimate protest. That had to account for something, right?

Lizzie buried her face in the junction of his neck as he wrapped his arms around her back. 

Maybe it wasn’t quite love they shared, but whatever it was neither of them seemed willing to let it go. 

Digging her fingers into his dress shirt, Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut and held on for dear life.

oOo

Lizzie learned that she was getting married by reading her own wedding invitation. 

_ Mr. & Mrs. Shelby request the honor of your presence at their wedding, Saturday, May 20, 1928. _

The words didn’t sink in until Ada called her, gushing excitedly about everything they needed to organize. Throughout the phone call, Lizzie could barely get a word in at all, stunned to realize that this was no longer just a matter of bureaucracy. This was really happening. 

As it turned out, Tommy was way ahead of her. 

“Mr. Shelby picked the cards himself. They’ll make a nice memento,” Frances said as she set down a plate full of breakfast before Lizzie. Forgoing the food, Lizzie took the little shimmery blue two-folded booklet with the E and the T curled together on a silver clasp in the front. She brushed her fingers over the expensive paper and flipped the envelope open, slowly pulling the invitation from the inside. The paper was thick and robust under her fingers. It announced the ceremony and reception at Tommy’s house and Lizzie was hit with an odd sense of deja-vu at the memory of yet another Shelby-wedding not too long ago. Tommy probably had everything planned already, down to the last detail, nothing for her to decide at all. 

“Morning, Lizzie."

Speak of the devil. 

Lizzie looked up to see Tommy striding in through the doorway. He was fully dressed, looking well-rested for once. He had Ruby propped up against his hip and one hand entangled with Charlie’s little fingers as he walked up to the large dinner table. Charlie clambered up onto the chair next to his father and Tommy passed Ruby on to Lizzie before sitting down to pour himself a coffee. 

“What’s all this, then, Thomas?”

He lit up a cigarette, letting it dangle from his lips. The day had yet to come where Tommy chose actual food over a breakfast of nicotine and caffeine. 

He snatched this morning’s newspaper and unfolded it, ignoring her question as though he hadn't heard it.

Annoyed, Lizzie reached around to yank the paper from his hands.

Tommy raised an amused eyebrow at her. “It’s rather self-explanatory, don’t you think?” 

He met her eyes straight-on and realization hit her full force. She swallowed a few times, trying to get her voice to work. There was a lump the size of London in her throat and it was hard to force words out around it. 

"You're serious about this."

"Deadly."

“Tommy. If this is about what happened...” she ducked her head, a flush rising to her cheeks. “You don’t have to do this. We’re married on paper. No one will come asking questions.”

“It’s not about people asking questions, Lizzie," Tommy said evenly. He spoke like a man who had made up his mind. "I want it so it’s made official that you are my lawful wife.”

The words opened up a rift inside of her and Lizzie was sure that for a second a whole lifetime of repressed emotion spilled free between them. She looked down, fiddling with the invitation in her hands she tried to get herself back under control. 

“Unless, of course. You’re turning me down,” Tommy added before taking a sip of his coffee. 

Lizzie set the invitation aside, barely hiding a smile of her own. 

"I'll have to think about it."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed! Please leave me a note and share your thoughts if you liked it!


End file.
